Sword School
by Raven Shinobi
Summary: In the wake of the release of Gohan's book, Trunks and Goten establish a martial arts school. Based on Dragon Ball Online and takes place twenty years after the end of DBZ.


**Disclaimer: the **_**Dragon Ball **_**franchise is the property of **_**Akira Toriyama **_**and **_**Shueisha**_**.**

**A/N: this fic is based on Dragon Ball Online, a MMORPG that's considered the true sequel to DBZ. Unlike the case with GT, Akira Toriyama had creative control over the story in DBO. He also have appeared to ignore all the events in GT since Shenron and the palm-sized dragon balls still exist hundreds of years after DBZ. **

**The gist of what happened to the characters after DBZ is that in the year 801, Goku and Vegeta sense that their deaths are near and leave earth for a final showdown. Three years later, Gohan releases a book called Groundbreaking Science that explains Ki and martial arts to the public, and a year after that, Trunks and Goten establish the Kikoukenjutsu sword school. You can find more story details on the DBO fansite and Daizex.**

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><p><strong>Sword School<strong>

Goten loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and yanked an outdated concert poster off the nearest lamppost to fan himself with. It was a midsummer afternoon at the beginning of the seventh century and the end of another day in the office for him.

The electronics store that he passed by featured on the TVs stacked against the window a rerun of last night's interview with Gohan, whose book had became a worldwide bestseller. The interview was soon interrupted by an advertisement of the upcoming annual martial arts tournament of Mr. Satan school, which had been passed on to his niece eleven years ago after the world champion's retirement. The ad was next followed by one about Clover Academy that taught kindergarten through college that Bra, who refused to live in her brother's shadow, had founded for gifted children. Bra's idea was that if Trunks was going to benefit the world with inventions, she was going to benefit the world with great individuals who will change it for the better one day. Both advertisements were voiced by none other than the femme fatales themselves, which elicited squeals from a group of girls in the academy uniform with a duffle bag emblazoned with the Satan School emblem hauled over their shoulders. They seemed to have finished their summer classes and were now heading for the dojo. Pan with her ability to kick any man's ass and Bra with her ambitious, woman-of-steel aura were role-models for young girls everywhere.

Goten stopped by a vending machine to buy a soda to cool down his sweating body. The one that the machine coughed up for him had a picture of his niece in her orange gi on it, a dialogue bubble extended from her mouth that stated: _'Win a front-seat ticket to the Satan Tournament!_'. After placing the icy bottle against his cheek and his briefcase under his armpit, he moved onto the book vending machine to buy the latest issue of Shounen Hop and sat on a bus-stop bench to skim through its pages. As he noted the series that had been serialized as long as he could remember, a nostalgic smile curved his lips. He remembered how when he was a penniless child he used to borrow this magazine from Trunks, who had presented him with a ten years subscription for his next birthday. In those Sundays three decades ago he would wake up with the first sunrise and wait on his toes by the mailbox for the postman to deliver his copy.

Before the Cell Games, superhero comics either centered around invincible aliens who had fled to earth after the destruction of their home planets or humans who had acquired super powers through a near-death experience. Drawing inspiration from Mr. Satan and his coincidental fame, the theme that had dominated Post-Cell Games' series was that of an ordinary human who starts out as a nobody and builds his way to fame and fortune with courage, effort and his love for his family and friends. Amusingly enough, after Mr. Satan's retirement and Pan taking over his legacy more comics starring a female fighter started to appear, and in order to draw in the male crowd their proportions were getting more and more unrealistic and their wardrobe more and more on the revealing side that you sometimes would wonder if those chicks actually had nipples.

After browsing the magazine and flipping back to the series that looked the most interesting to him, Goten opened his soda and checked the inside of the cap to find _'Try Again!' _written in there_ - _well, no problem, his niece handed out front seat tickets to family and friends all the time. Back when he was a kid, Goten would specifically buy drinks and snacks that came with potential prizes, hoping for the walkman, the bicycle or the game console stamp inside.

A bus plastered with a picture of a sharp-looking female flashing the latest Capsule smart phone stopped by and left without him getting on, the bottle that he had yet to take a single chug from was getting lukewarm in his hand. _Wherever he went, he saw 'their' fingerprints on society everywhere. _As happy as he was for his fellow hybrids, Goten could not help but feel disheartened that he was the only one who had not fulfilled his dreams or made it big.

When he was a child, Goten had aspired to become someone cool, like an astronaut, an entomologist, a baseball player or a comic artist. However, after graduating high school and seeing that his level of intellect could only admit him to a third-rate university, he had learned the hard way that life was not as easy as he thought it was as a kid. He was one of the strongest men in the universe and humanity owed him and his family big for the peace it was indulging in right now. He did not want to spend the rest of his life bowing to those bloated baldies, laugh at their lame jokes, put up with their mood swings or be their errand dog when he was not even paid to do so.

The magazine in his lap had gotten wrinkled from the sweat that had gathered in his palm. _'But even if I quit my job where the hell will I go? All I know is filling in papers, making photocopies and coffee, and other menial office work that will only end me in the same job that I ran away from!' _

He had no experience, skills or certificates to brag about, and thanks to his poor speech skills and liability to make mistakes he had not been promoted in the fifteen years he had been stuck in that hellhole. Goten wanted to be freed from this dull existence - he wanted to join in the fun that Trunks, Bra, his brother and niece were having right now.

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><p>The scenery shifted to an office on the second floor with one wall serving as a window that overlooked the indoor dojo downstairs that basked in the afternoon sunlight. The other walls were adorned with pictures that chronicled the history of the school that had been passed on from grandfather to granddaughter and the students they had taught. The current proprietor of the school was sitting behind a mahogany office desk with a nameplate, her waist-length hair tied in a low ponytail. She was wearing her family's trademark orange gi that sported the Chinese character "Go" on the back - the first character of each of the Son men's first name. She was the strongest woman on the planet whose pupils were capable of putting up matches that drove the announcers and audience to the edge of their seats.<p>

"Like always, thank you for handling the tech stuff," Pan smiled gratefully at the man clad in his business suit minus the blazer, who was sitting in one of the chairs in front of her office desk. Complying with parents' demands, the tournament had been pushed back to late summer so students could focus more on their studies throughout the year and go on trips with their parents at summer's beginning. In preparation for the heat and humidity, Capsule Corporation had manufactured spectators' seats equipped with an AC each and redesigned the arena to release a cooling breeze from the seams between the blocks. Pan was also contemplating buying the area behind the school to include an indoor arena in the future for such an occasion and weather conditions.

"Anything for my Panny!" Trunks cooed playfully as he examined the last picture that the Son's had taken together as a family four years ago. Pan was in her graduation day, cheek-to-cheek with her mother and grandmother; her father was patting her fondly on the head while Goku and Goten were giving the V-sign.

His sister also had a picture of similar value on her office desk that had been taken at the opening of Clover Academy. She was in a dress by her favorite designer that had been the talk of the fashion world that year, looking ecstatic as she was having her first dance with their father who had a proud look on his face. No one had expected back then that the reason why their father had yielded to strutting his stuff on the dance floor was because it was the last occasion they will be spending together as father and daughter.

"Did you see yesterday's news?" Pan brought up the subject she had been itching to discuss with him once they had finished the paperwork. Trunks was not the type to sugar-coat things or blow them out of proportions - at these hectic times hearing his matter-of-fact opinion was all it took to make her feel at ease.

"You mean about the supernova explosion?" Trunks sighed as he put the picture back on the desk.

"It's _them_, isn't it?" Pan cracked, her interlaced fingers pressing tightly against each other to contain herself from crying. The news reporter had stated that the phenomenon that had occurred in a star cluster in its early millions had caused a stir among astronomers around the world, which led her father to the conclusion that it could be none other than the work the Saiyan patriarchs in the midst of their final battle against each other. She had called Bra about it last night, and the two had broken into tears as memories flooded of that morning three years ago when the most important men in their lives were no longer part of it.

Trunks was at loss for words as he averted his eyes from the woman who was struggling to stay calm. Through his life, his father had been driven by three forces: the desire to protect his family, his pride as the prince of all Saiyans and the urge to redeem himself by defeating the third-class grunt who had bested him. Though Saiyans had a longer youth than humans, their lifespan was exactly the same, and with elderly and death drawing near, battling each other until one of them kicked the bucket was the only way the lifelong rivals could look back and say they had lived a life without regrets. In order to not cause a commotion or be faced with Bra and Pan's tearful pleas to stay they had left quietly at the crack of dawn, only informing their wives of their decision beforehand. Nowadays, his mother often cast her eyes towards the sky, as though expecting her prince to come back home at any moment. The days, months and years had passed without hearing a word from them, but it seemed the planetary destruction in the wake of their battles was the only proof they were still around. Saiyans lived and died by their fists, and the battlefield served as their graveyards.

"You know? After grandpa left, dad realized that it had finally fallen onto us." Pan wistfully quoted her father's perception, "until then, we believed that no matter how hopeless things could get, grandpa and Vegeta-san will end up saving the day. For decades, we'd been lulled by that sense of security and enjoyed our everyday lives without worrying about the future. Now that they're gone, it's not only our responsibility to defend earth, but to train warriors who would never rely on others to defend their homes the way we relied on grandpa and Vegeta-san. It's that realization that inspired dad to write that book as a guide for everyone to do so."

Nowadays after he came back from work, Trunks often found himself stopping by the now unused gravity simulator and pass the time until dinner thinking about the effects of his father's permanent absence from their lives. He would recall the Majin Buu days, his father's words before he had scarified himself and the sadness in his mother's eyes whenever she smiled at him to reassure him she was doing fine. Realizing his mother's pain and struggle to be strong for him, the eight year old boy from back then had realized that he was now the man of the family: that he must get strong like his father to keep his mother safe. Once again at thirty eight, it was time to embrace his role as the head of the family that his father had entrusted to him.

Sensing the gloomy silence that was looming over them, Pan blinked back her unshed tears, stood up and walked towards the window overlooking the dojo downstairs. She placed a hand on the glass that was cold from the AC, and forced out a chuckle as she watched her students that practiced the final moves for today like a mother watching over her children. "You know? After dad's book was out, my students have been asking me when we'll finally start the Ki lessons." She went on, "Those who join our school are mostly men who want to become famous like grandpa Satan or girls who have me as a role-model or want to learn self-defense. They all think of martial arts as a bridge to fame and fortune or an extracurricular thing to do after school. I should do my part like dad and teach them there will be times when earth is in danger, and they have to combine their powers to defeat enemies of the likes of Cell."

'_And unless I get off my lazy ass and make time for training, I'll end up succeeding mom as the mad scientist of the group who hides behind Pan's skirt!' _

Trunks spent his days benefiting humanity with his inventions that facilitated people's lives and reduced the distance between them. But as he watched Pan training generations and Gohan inspiring people with the compilation of his knowledge as a warrior, he could not help but feel he was missing out on something. He too wanted to pass on to the world the techniques that his father had passed on to him. He too wanted to inspire and be looked up to by children like one of those comic superheroes he had admired as a kid. But what he could do to satisfy this urge? Write a book about martial arts? Gohan already had done that and he will be dubbed a copycat by the media and Gohan's fans. Run a dojo? It will constantly be compared to Pan's and will end up getting bashed since hers came first. Besides, other than fangirls who will be drawn in by his looks and the chances of hooking up with a zillionaire, he doubted he could ever convince anyone to ditch the world champion's school for his.

He wanted something that will set him apart from Gohan and Pan… Something that the future generations would identify as his trademark 'something'...

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><p>The city outside the revolving bar twinkled with lights as lampposts and neon signs were lit one by one as dusk blackened the orange sky of the afternoon. Laughter, the clinking of glassware and the footsteps of waiters who went to and fro filled the surroundings of the four hybrids as they recounted their tales of the week. Ever since Pan and Bra had hit eighteen, the four had designated Friday nights to meet up, chat and drink until they went their separate ways on dates and such. The history that tied their families, the friendship that linked them together and the alien blood that coursed through their veins made them relate to and confine in one another. The men sometimes asked the women for girl advice, while as the women consulted them about work and life. There was occasional mock flirting that went on between them, and at one time they had announced amidst laughter if the boys hit fifty and the girls were still available, how about the four of them hook up and become brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces in law?<p>

"Guess what? _That_ porn magazine asked me to pose nude on their cover!" Bra heatedly started the conversation after they handed the menus back to the waiter, who, after years of serving their table, did not become phased by the astronomical amounts they had just ordered.

"_Those dipshits!" _Trunks, who had gotten more protective of the women of his family after his father had left, hissed. He had half a mind to storm their editor's office and break each of the sleazebag's fingers, so he would not be able to masturbate as he typed ever again.

"Man, that's even worse than when _that_ lingerie company asked me to model for their summer lineup!" Pan groused, fuming at the memory of how she was a hairbreadth from ruining that company's representative nose job after suggesting that the collection's name should be "Pan Son Shows Her Girly Side!". It was not like Bra and she were against women dolling up and appealing to those who they liked, but they wanted to convey through their decisions, achievements and lifestyle that a woman's goodness was in her ambition, independence and compassion, not in her sex appeal. Both of them were aware of all the young girls out there who were looking up to them and imitating their every move; they did not want to disappoint them or lead them astray.

"Come to think of it, Bra dominated their latest poll: 'Which celebrity you'd want to sleep with?'" Goten correlated.

"They tried to talk me into it with the offer that 50% of the issue's profits will go to charity." The waiter arrived balancing on his arms several plates of finger food that he next placed on the middle of the table, and Bra added after taking a bite of foie gras, "The moment I'm on the cover of a magazine in my birthday suit is the moment parents will stop entrusting me with their kids' future!"

"Just imagine it: Bra with glasses, her hair in a loose bun, and wearing nothing but the smile on her face. She points a baton at you with the headline: _'Principal Briefs will give you detention if you don't donate your lunch money!_"

Goten gesticulated that last bit with pointing his knife at Bra with his voice turning seductive, which resulted in him being turned into Bra's target as she threw the food pick that was in the shape of a duck at him like a dart. The scraping of chairs followed as Bra bolted up. "Come on Pan, let's blow off some steam on stage!"

"Any requests?" Pan asked the boys over her shoulder as she trailed behind her longtime friend.

"Cha-La-Head-Cha-La!" Goten said in a sing-song-voice while moving the food pick that he had caught like a conductor.

"We were Angels." Trunks took out his cigarettes and silver lighter embossed with Planet Vegeta's royal seal. He often was asked by his business associates and the women he had been dating what the symbol stood for, and he would snicker that his father was the only survivor of an alien royal family and this was the family's crest. His associates would laugh at his true joke, saying 'could it be the symbol of some cult?', while as his girlfriends would play along as they wrap their arms around his neck, role-playing as the courtesan, the poor maid or the enemy kingdom's princess that he held captive.

When Bra and Pan ascended the stage they received the welcome of superstars. Cheers emanated from Pan and and Bra's fans who had taken a habit to frequent this bar once they had learned it was one of their favorite hang-outs. After informing the band of what they wanted to sing they each took a microphone. The guitarist opened with strumming an upbeat rhythm, and they sang in turns with the entire place clapping and singing along the chorus with them.

The scent of tobacco filled the air as Trunks lit a cigarette and blew out smoke in the direction of the girls' unoccupied seats. He silently offered Goten one, but the latter, who refrained from clapping along with the crowd tonight, waved him off.

Goten observed the crowd that reacted to Bra and Pan on the stage and how they held up their hands to video record or snap pictures with their cell phones. When he had started working, his co-workers would notice his last name and ask whether he was related to Mr. Satan's granddaughter. But Goten, who did not want to be asked for Mr. Satan's autograph or be the one who introduced them to him, would deny such relation, saying that the last name was only similar. The same thing had been happening recently ever since Gohan's book had become a hit whenever he was in places that required him showing his ID. His focus then shifted to the tables nearby, and noticed how some women were constantly glancing over at their table, seemingly waiting for Trunks' eyes to meet with theirs, and maybe catch his attention as they said something intelligent while looking all classy as they adhered to table manners.

Goten drew a line along his glass that had become fogged from cold wine, eyeing the reflection of the overhead chandelier that sparkled on the crimson surface. He felt bad about this, but he had also kept from all the women he had dated that he knew Trunks Briefs. He was afraid of the request to introduce them to him, and watch as they attempted to get into Trunks' pants. Not that he thought Trunks had it in him to betray him for some random slut, but he hated to be reminded of his shortcomings as his girlfriend shifted her attention to his wealthier, more attractive and more successful friend.

"You look so depressed," Trunks commented as he put out his cigarette, noticing how his friend had yet to touch the food and how atypically detached he was from all the partying that went on around them.

"Trunks, do you wish sometimes if your life had been different?" He elaborated, "Like, it wasn't set in stone from birth that you'll be succeeding your mother - that during the day you're somewhere else, doing stuff other than doing paperwork or thinking up new inventions?"

"Like I could've been a space cowboy, exploring the universe and fighting evil aliens bent on universal domination?" Sometimes when their vacations intersected the four hybrids would plan a journey to outer space. The Briefs siblings would always fight over who gets to pilot the spaceship and end up settling it over a game of rock-paper-scissors, which could take several rounds, since it involved two geniuses who thought they knew what the other thought they knew what went on the other Briefs' head. At one time, Trunks had asked his father for the coordinates of Planet Vegeta, and when they had made it there they only found an empty space dotted with debris where the planet used to be. "I have accepted that I'm the only man for the job since I was a kid, Goten, and I couldn't have imagined doing anything else when I grew up."

"I see." _And he too had accepted since he was a kid that unlike Trunks and Gohan, he will never amount to much when he grew up._

"Something happened at work?" Trunks prodded. It seemed there was something on his friend's mind that he could not put into words or bring himself to bring up.

"One of the new guys, the one that I showed the ropes to when he first joined five years ago, has been promoted to section chief."

"How come?" Trunks was irritated at the unfair decision. He then became concerned for his friend who was never known to stand up for himself nor to possess the argumentative skills, "Did you talk it out with your boss?"

"It's okay," Goten reassured listlessly, "unlike me, that guy is proactive and always comes ready with ideas whenever there's a meeting. It will be unfair to him if he had to work under someone like me. Actually, it got me thinking that for the past fifteen years I've been stuck in a job that I hated, all while watching those who were employed after me get ahead."

The clapping around them stopped as the rhythm shifted from upbeat to a slow one that made the crowd sway from side to side on their seats. Bra and Pan's eyes glazed with tears as they sang Trunks' request, the lyrics reminding them of those who no longer walked on this Earth. There had been times when the thought to board an airship, search for Vegeta and Goku and drag them back to spend the rest of their days with their families had crossed their minds, but they ended up hesitating out of respect for the warriors' last wish.

"Having a model student and then a scholar for an older brother like Gohan placed a lot of expectations on me since I was a kid," Goten rested his head in his palm as he reflected on the circumstances that had led to this lackluster everyday life he was living. "Mom was strict with me and had a hard time trying to mold me into another Gohan… you know, the type that made her swell with pride when talking to his teachers and put her in the mood to cook a big feast when seeing his report card. However, after years of handing her report cards that only turned her smile upside-down and failing to get into the same top-rate university as Gohan, mom finally threw in the towel and accepted that I'm not meant for much. Mom feared for my future and chose me a major that will easily land me a job after I graduate. She also directed me to offer my résumé in government institutions, since they tend to go easy on their employees compared to the private sector…"

Goten came to a pause as all the unexciting weekdays that followed his employment fast-forwarded before his mind's eyes. "You have no idea how left out I'd feel every time you three bring up all the exciting events and important people you met at work… makes me wish if I'm that smart or motivated to initiate those kind of stuff for me!"

Trunks sighed tiredly and admonished, "Goten, didn't I invite you to work at Capsule Corp. once you graduated? Didn't I tell you you always had a place in my company if you ever changed your mind? You blew me off saying that a friend of Gohan's hooked you up and you didn't want to embarrass him. Work is something that you do for yourself that you're stuck with for life!"

"I lied!" Goten released a bitter laugh. "Trunks, you have no idea how too-good-to-be-true it is the idea to work for you. However, I'm not the brightest bulb in the box, and I didn't want to do something that'll embarrass you or cause you trouble. Besides, people will suck up to me or bottle up whatever complaints they have about me since I know you and all…"

"Idiot." Trunks lit another cigarette that he pointed at him in emphasis. "I trust you that you'll take care not to do anything that will drive me to do something I'm gonna hate myself for!"

Goten's cracked a smile, his despondency turning into a warm fuzzy feeling at knowing the extent of his friend's faith in him. "It's not only that, Trunks. Ever since we were kids I always lived in your shadow. I always agreed with whatever you said and went with whatever made you happy. Basically, I never thought for myself or made any decisions whenever I was around you, because I thought a totally smart and cool guy like you could do no wrong. I wanted to follow my own path: to accomplish something without your help that I'll be proud of!"

Trunks was rendered speechless by that revelation as he rotated the cigarette between his fingers in the same manner he would do his pen when contemplating something at work. Since he was a child, Trunks had whatever he wanted, great things were expected from him, and everyone had nothing but praise to say about him. Would it be hypocritical to tell someone who did not stand out in school and was deprived of things due to his parent's financial status that he understood his feelings? Would he sound condescending if he told someone who had failed to make a name for himself that being known and successful was not as great as it sounded? that it could be tricky maintaining that success - that there will be as many people who hated you for your success as there were people who admired you for it.

The room around them shook with applause, the customers demanding an encore as Bra and Pan's second duet came to an end. Next, the stage became crowded with their female students, all wanting to gush out their admiration or take pictures with them. The scent of seafood and exotic spices mixed with the scent of wine and tobacco as the women's order was the first to arrive. The old waiter took notice of the appetizers and vintage wine that was barely touched by the Half-Saiyans, and he pointed with one grey eyebrow arching above his spectacles. "It isn't to your liking?"

"Uh? No!" Trunks chuckled reassuringly, putting out his cigarette that had been reduced to half its size in the midst of his thinking. "We were so caught up talking that we totally forgot about the food!"

Goten felt embarrassed as he realized how his gloominess had been transmitted to his friend like a virus. Trunks may appear cold and distant to those who did not know him, but he was empathetic and did not hesitate to involve himself in other's problems. Plastering the trademark Son grin on his face, he began sampling the finger sandwiches, and gushed after swallowing a mini burger, "my compliments to the chef!"

The sword food pick that Goten waved approvingly at the waiter caught Trunks' attention. It unearthed a distant childhood memory which pointed at a forgotten corner of one of his closet's upper shelves.

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><p>It was nearing midnight, and the sound of speeding cars and cheers and jeers of drunken men occasionally broke the deadly silence of the empty streets outside. With his feet several feet above the floor, Trunks hovered from one upper shelf of his closet to the other, searching behind boxes of game consoles, cartridges and comics that dated back to a decade or two or three. After an hour or so of moving boxes around, checking inside them, marking them for future reference and holding stacks of them with one hand as he searched in the back of the shelf with the other, he found a rectangular box that was half his size. Thanks to the vacuum bugs he had invented to suck dust off high and difficult to clean places, the box had not become caked with the dust of the last thirty years it had been stored and forgotten.<p>

He landed in a sitting position on his bed that shook under his weight, un-lid the box and took out a sword - the metal handle that he gripped and the hiss of sharp metal as it was being pulled off its scabbard indicated it was not a child's toy or a decoration, but the real thing. Trunks watched it glint as he turned it from side to side under the electric light, and a nostalgic smile curved his lips as memories resurfaced of its previous owner who was also one of his childhood's role-models.

He got up, held the sword in both hands and swung it around in the same manner he remembered Tapion slashing, cleaving and finishing off his opponents. He recalled those weekends following Tapion's departure when he had tied a long piece of cloth around his neck like a cape, strapped Tapion's sword to his back and played the knight dispatched to save the kingdom from the demon king. Along with Goten who had served as his sidekick, they had journeyed around the globe to search for legendary treasures, slain salivating dinosaurs that wanted to turn them into their lunch, and saved villages on their way from extortion by evil organizations.

Trunks fell back on his bed, placed his sword between his legs and hunched forward to rest his chin on the hilt that he propped up with his hands. In order for a martial artist to make his mark on the world, he needed to get everyone to believe that he had saved the world from some threat like Mr. Satan or found his own martial arts school like Muten Roshi. And in order for one to found his own martial arts school, he first needed to come up with some flashy moves like the Kamehameha that could only be mastered through a rigorous training regime. Secondly, he needed to draw in students; the most effective way to do so was to show off his mad fighting skills in a tournament or something and make a name for himself by having an unbroken win record for years. A shortcut to achieve all that was to use his expertise in convincing the consumers that a product will not be a waste of money to his advantage - a commercial in which a cool-looking guy cuts a boulder in half with his sword flaming with ki in the wind will surely draw in the kids.

So, money was not a problem, and Trunks had the blood of warriors flowing in his veins which made coming up with all sorts of fighting techniques a second nature to him. However, Trunks was a busy man whose career required him working in evenings and being out of town often. Just when was he going to find the time to administer the school and on top of that hold classes? Besides, swordplay was an ancient fighting style that had gotten swept away in favor of guns over the centuries, which will make finding instructors to fill in for him quite difficult. He needed someone who was his equal in power… someone who will master the techniques he came up with in no time and teach them to his students on his behalf… someone he trusted enough to leave the school in his hands…

* * *

><p>"Trunks! To what do we owe this visit?" Gohan extended his hand to greet the younger man, the big smile on his face and the tone of his voice indicating it had been a long time since they had seen each other. Ever since Goten had moved into the city to keep his girlfriends away from his mother's criticism, the lifelong friends had been meeting up in bars and coffee shops instead of stopping by and saying hello to the family while they were at it. Bra on the other hand visited often since Pan still lived with them, and Gohan wished his family of three stayed that way.<p>

Trunks felt like a deer caught in headlights: it indeed had been so long that it will be rude if it appeared like he only showed his face after all this time out of self-interest. He returned the older man's smile and shook his hand. "It's been ages!" Maybe they could talk about how he and his mother were doing, how Gohan and Videl were doing, bring up the interview from a few days ago, discuss Gohan's book, and build up the conversation towards him finally declaring about the sword school.

Gohan released a hearty laugh as he patted Trunks on the shoulder. He informed Videl over his shoulder that they had guests and led Trunks with Goten trailing behind them to the sitting area. "So, how's Bulma-san?"

"Fine!" Trunks replied with a smile that concealed his sadness for his mother. After his father had left, his mother had the urge to return to the company and occupy herself with something with no one to maintain the gravity simulator for or chat with at lunch. "I just saw Chichi-san in the farm pulling out radishes - reminds of the time when we first met uncle Tarble, and how we had to settle who got to fight Abo and Cado through 'who gets to pull the biggest radish!'"

"Expect Pan to deliver your batch tomorrow!" Gohan laughed. After several failed job interviews that had only pointed at his father being a muscle-head who lacked the focus and competence that will make him last in a work environment, his mother had realized that they had to be as self-sufficient as they could to get by. In order to lower the cost of feeding the three Saiyans under her roof, his mother had started a farm and sent his father to the forest around their house to procure firewood and hunt or fish for their protein source. Later in the afternoon, Gohan would be back from school and studying in his room along with Goten who did his homework on his bed. Sometimes, Bulma and Vegeta would stop by with Trunks in three, and after a little chat over tea Bulma would don an apron and help his mother around in the kitchen with simple stuff like washing rice or cutting vegetables. Until dinner, the lawn will be filled with the kids' laughter and his father's failed attempts to strike up a friendly conversation with Vegeta, who would insist on bringing his rivalry with his father to everything.

Minutes later while they were reminiscing about all the times Gohan had hid them from their angry mothers or covered up for them in the wake of a prank, Videl made her entrance with tea and a big smile on her face that revealed her first wrinkles that were around her mouth. Her husband on the other hand did not look a day older than what he did in their wedding picture on the side table next to where they were sitting. Though Saiyans and hybrids had the same lifespan as humans, they aged perfectly well. Trunks and Goten looked like they were in their early twenties when they were actually in their late thirties, and their parents had their first wrinkles and grey hairs when they were nearing seventy before they had left. During many interviews of late, Gohan had been asked what was his secret to looking as young as any of his students, and the Half-Saiyan in a clever strategy to draw people to martial arts would laugh it must be his daily sparring with Pan.

By the time their teacups had cooled down, the conversation had shifted from family and the old days to work, and at the mention of Gohan's latest interview Videl puffed up her chest, giggling as she pointed at a shelf stacked with DVDs and scrapbooks that contained interviews, internet printouts and newspaper and magazine clippings on both her husband and daughter. Gohan was intelligent and down-to-earth, and Pan was widely loved and inspirational to all the young girls out there, so she found nothing but good things to read about them.

Trunks put down his empty cup with a clink and exclaimed, sounding like an idea that was born from this conversation suddenly hit him, "You know, your book inspired me to establish my own martial arts school!"

"Really? That's wonderful!" Gohan gushed, feeling quite honored that his book had this much impact on him. "What kind of school will it be?"

"When it comes to unarmed combat, I can never possibly hope to compete with the prestige and popularity of Pan's school, so I thought of doing something different," Trunks chuckled. "Your principle of channeling ki through objects inspired me to develop a fighting style that uses swords."

"Swords, huh? Just like _him_," Gohan breathed out reminiscently. "I mean, the other you from the other dimension that Cell came from. You heard of him, right? A sword was his weapon of choice and was my inspiration when I came up with the principle you'll be applying!"

Trunks remained silent as he noted the nostalgia on his elder's countenance as he drifted in memories. Trunks had seen pictures of the other him sporting the same bowl cut with a sword strapped to his back. Some were with his mother, some with the Z-gang and some with him carrying his infant self who was pulling at his long bangs - his mother had told him it was from when he had come out of the Room of Spirit and Time with his father when they were training for the Androids. His mother's stories had denoted that compared to him, his other self was less proud, more disciplined and just as stubborn. The fondness in her voice whenever she talked about him made Trunks quite jealous, and his circumstances and heroics that made him sound like a storybook hero made him feel inferior. Trunks' goal when he was a child was to be as cool as his father and cooler than this 'Future Trunks' that everyone was so crazy about.

"So, have you come up with the techniques yet?" Gohan asked.

"I've been poking around with some ideas. But first, I gotta settle on the metal or the alloy to forge our swords from that will be able withstand a Super Saiyan 3's Ki. Also,…"

Trunks trailed off as he looked sideways, and Goten, who was slouching next to him with both arms on the back of the couch, sat up straight as he noted the serious look on his face. Trunks stated in a business-like manner, "Goten, I want to hire you as an instructor in my school. Not only that, my work at Capsule will take most of my time and I want you to look after things while I'm away. Of course, filling in two positions at once will get you paid in double."

At the thought of saying goodbye to that drab workstation and not having to answer to those insufferable tubs of lard, Goten's reaction at having received the opportunity of a lifetime would have been an excited _'Hell, yes!'_. However, he recalled all the times he had grumbled about his work and how his mother had told him to _'bite the bullet and hold on to his steadily paying job. No one will be willing to hire someone who had never been promoted or received a recognition letter in all the years he had worked in!'_.Even if the offer came from Trunks who will be willing to compensate him with a job at his company in case this school business flopped, will someone as dimwitted as he was be able to meet Trunks' trust, keep everything under control and make the right decisions in his absence?

In the midst of his indecision that was fueled by his insecurities and fear to fail his best friend, Goten felt a hand gripping on his shoulder. "No one else will do, Goten. Let's put our heads together and come up with all sorts of badass moves like we did when we were kids. We both will go down in history as the founders of the very first sword school that utilizes ki!"

The chime of the oven, the sweet scent of freshly baked cake and Chichi's triumphant cry as she pulled out a deep-rooted radish elapsed in the silence that followed. Finally, Goten met Trunks' gaze, removed his hand off his shoulder and sighed tiredly, "You're the type that can't take no for an answer and will go to any length to get what he wants!" He then smirked as he gripped his hand in what seemed like an oath. "Do you think that hundreds of years from now we will become so legendary there will be movies, videogames and action figures based on us?"

"I hope when they make anime and manga based on us they won't inspire any BL doujins where you and I have the hots for each other!"

"Hah! With the sword theme and your hair color that's also the name of a flower? _The yaoi fangirls won't be able to resist!_"Goten teased with a mock-flirtatious tone.

"This calls for a celebration!" Gohan got up to see if they had some wine to drink a toast to the occasion, while as Videl headed to the kitchen to decorate the cake and write a word of congratulations on it with chocolate syrup.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Six Months Later <strong>_

Goten stood in the middle of the recently paved arena and beheld the place around him that still smelled of paint from all angles. He relished the feeling that from now on he will be commuting here everyday - that his work here will be his source of income. When he wakes up every morning he will think about what to teach his students, and whenever he meets up with his family or friends he will tell stories about them.

He watched the rain clouds that began to drift away from the sun through the windows as he recalled submitting his resignation a month ago. His boss had inquired more in curiosity than in concern why he was leaving, and he had replied that he will be starting a business with a friend. He did not ask for any further details as he signed his resignation, nor did his voice reflect any lamentation as he wished him luck; Goten doubted that he will be missed - well, it was not like he will miss them either.

Not able to contain his excitement that rushed through his veins any longer, he turned super saiyan, punched and kicked imaginary foes left and right and ended his solo sparring with a series of victorious backflips. When he stood still again, he spotted Bra and Pan with their tour guide Trunks in between waving at him through the window of the administration office in the second floor, and he waved back as he ran to meet up with them.

During the past half year, Trunks and Goten had been meeting up every day after work to device new techniques and discuss how to run their school. Classes will start at four o'clock in the afternoon to suit most of their pupils who were also students. Trunks had also given Goten the authority to handle the administrative work in his absence, but since Goten was not the proprietor of the school, he still had to forward some papers to Trunks via fax or a messenger to look over and sign. They had also come up with several ideas for commercials, the school emblem and uniform and asked their families for their opinion before settling on one. Their advertising campaign had managed to draw in quite a crowd, but since Goten, and partially Trunks, were currently the only ones with any knowledge of Ki manipulation they had to set the limit to a total of thirty. Though, they did hire fencing and kendo instructors with the goal to train them along with their students so they could assist them in the future.

When Goten entered the office he was greeted by the scent of the coffee and donuts they had bought on their way here. After the four hybrids took off their coats, gloves, mufflers and turned on the fire in the fireplace with a click of a button, they seated themselves around the coffee table in front of the office desk and began discussing the preparations for the opening party that will take place two weeks from now. Aside from their families, professional reporters and journalists, and VIPs who were in close relation with Capsule Corporation, the invitation will also be extended to the Z-fighters, the people at the lookout and Uub and his family, which will also turn the party into one big reunion since they hadn't seen each other in ages. The discussion also covered the content of Trunks and Goten's opening speech and presentation, Goten's stage fright, the hotel that will handle the catering and the food and refreshments to be served to the guests, which drove them to make a phone call and order an entire buffet for dinner that was delivered to the function room downstairs.

* * *

><p>"I wonder what dad will think about this school business when he hears of it…" Trunks stated wistfully once they were back in the office to drink hot cocoa around the fireplace. "I bet he ain't gonna like the idea of me passing on everything I learned from him to 'petty human runts'!"<p>

The fire crackled in the silence that followed and spitted sparks everywhere as it reduced the logs in size. The girls tucked their feet to their chests with their heads hanging in sorrow, while as Goten moved the cocoa remainder in his mug that was stamped with the school emblem from side to side.

They all recalled their last space trip that was to the site of the supernova explosion that had occurred last summer, hoping to bump into Goku and Vegeta. On their way back home empty-handed, they had stopped by uncle Tarble's planet, and were surprised to learn from him that the elder Saiyans had been swinging by often and had turned the planet into some sort of a station to re-supply and refuel after each of their battles. Tarble had told them that the two had been battling each other until they both fell from exhaustion, and that all of their battles until now had ended in a draw. After several near-fatal injuries that were followed by a power-up by the zenkai power, their power levels had reached the extent they could inadvertently cause the destruction of the planets around them. Each time they dropped by Tarble's place more scars were added to their bodies, and after they had recovered from the burns of last summer's supernova explosion they took off to search for uninhabited galaxies to fight their next battle against one another. The four left them a video message to say hi and reassure them they were all doing fine, and hoped for a reply when they came back to visit next year.

"It's getting late!" Pan commented after glancing at the clock tower out of the window, the black hour hand that shone clearly against glaring white was nearing her bedtime. Bra stretched like a kitten, while Goten got up to collect the trash on the table to dump them on their way out.

"Hey, how about we take a picture to commemorate the completion of the building?" Trunks was struck with the idea in the midst of lighting a cigarette.

"But we didn't bring a camera!" Goten informed regrettably.

"How about our cellphones?" Trunks winked, flashing his company's latest model.

While Goten adapted a cool pose and the woman checked their hair and makeup, Trunks built a tower of books on the coffee table and placed his phone horizontally atop it. After adjusting the angle to fit his three companions and the school emblem mounted behind the desk into the frame, he set the timer and hopped into the space next to Goten. The camera flashed and captured the moment that was stored in bytes, and in the next day was rendered into a photograph strapped into a picture frame on the desk.


End file.
